Sorry

Filed at 8:57 pm under Ghost Ship by m3studio

At times a very little word
For the words and actions
Of pain are ever hurting
Everlasting

No matter how it is said
Or how many times
The five letters
Are ever short
Weightless

Memories

Filed at 1:02 am under Ghost Ship by m3studio

A song
A photograph
A smell
A sense of Déjà vu

The above spark
To ignites the flame
Which burst into a flash
And there you go

There again
Feeling the joy
Experiencing the pain
Engulfed in time

Wake Up

Filed at 3:49 am under Ghost Ship by m3studio

Buzzed into the starting glow
Droplets spray
Java downing
Slumber clinging
Sluggish is movement
Desire but a dream
In this out of step pace

Memories take hope by the hand
Guided by timeless thoughts
They dance to the rhythm of illusion
While reality stands off to the distance
Brief sneakers can be heard

‘99

(untitled 2)

Filed at 3:44 am under Ghost Ship by m3studio

Way the hell back when
Was the faded hey day
When sky and water were crystal
The days of oneness
Between skyline and horizon
Tree grew for there was room
Amongst the houseless streets
In the advent days of
Telephones dreamt high-tech

Questions asked to no one
Shall the pendulum swing back?
Or is it the wrecking ball
That hangs there now

‘99

(Untitled)

Filed at 3:25 am under Ghost Ship by m3studio

Never been a believer of much
Turning towards a dreamer of such
As the days grow colder and darker
Post-grave existence

Foolish hope
Conceived out of fear
The settling in of final resting
Has such dread to it
This cannot be
The final step
Of evolution
Yet it has been
Over a week
Since raindrops fell

‘99

Slow Death

Filed at 3:14 am under Ghost Ship by m3studio

Blankly view the hand’s movement
While their drawing continues
Emptiness traded for energy
Motivation replaced with mundane
Hope grows pointless
As the sand is rising quicker
Gnawing at the limbs
A tasty treat
Drowned in coffee
Suffocated in cigarettes

‘99

Too Many

Filed at 3:05 am under Ghost Ship by m3studio

Too many Thoughts racing
Forming knots of nothing
Yet the desire remains

Too many images
More blurs than actual
Shapes are undefined

Too many ideas
Born to silence
To die due to lack of inspiration